Early December

It was a cold day when I stepped out of the car. Winter, I never did enjoy it. I shivered as I tossed my backpack over my shoulder. I headed towards the doors when I saw Olivia waiting for me, she opened the door despite the cold and ran to me.

"They know," Olivia said as she had come early for basketball practice. "They were all talking about in the locker room. Someone saw you at the clinic, or maybe when you were having lunch out after your appointment. They had this taped to your locker," she said handing over the piece of paper to my mother and not me but I could see a large W and another S on it.

Whore and Slut

Kids were as cruel as they back in the '80s, maybe worse now that we had social media. I hadn't checked my social breakfast. I was scared to even look at my phone now.

"If anyone bugs her?" My mom looked at Olivia who had proven over the past two weeks that she was sticking around. She spent the evenings I wasn't working or trying to dance with me watching movies. Occasionally chatting about the baby as she pulled up various facts, something that impressed dad when he heard her.

"Of course Mrs. Blythe," Olivia said with a sharp nod of her head. Mom left us, and I took a deep breath before I allowed myself into the school. It wasn't as bad as what I had thought out in my mind it would be. Yes, people starred, yes people whispered as I passed them in the hallway but no one said anything to my face. But it wasn't like how they portray it in the movies or t.v shows. No-one turned around and pointed and laughed at me.

Still, Olivia waited as I put away my things watching my back, literally for me. Before she walked me to my first class.

The teacher looked me over, as I took my seat, wrapping my sweater tighter around me. The morning announcements and Oh Canada came on and the school day had begun, except this time it ended up with a final message.

A reminder that social and online bullying was still not tolerated in school. I groan I know my mother is only trying to keep the school calm and think twice but in reality, it would only make it work. The teacher seems sympathetic as she gives me a look as I curl up in a ball wanting to hideaway. She thankfully leaves me be, as I begin my morning math class.

My phone is on fire as it continues to light up. Instagram messages that I could only imagine what they said.

Shirley pops up in a text message as I pull out my phone to use my calculator.

I wouldn't look at Snapchat right now, actually don't look at anything. Do you want me to turn things private?

I sigh. Only Shirley could manage to know my passwords and even then I didn't want to know-how. Then again most of them were sadly dance-related.

Sure—I reply simply. Instagram was already private but I can only assume that he would block anyone sending me comments.

On it!— Was the reply I got.

I was halfway through class when one of the secretaries knocks on the door and hands my teacher a note. She nods her head and continues teaching, during her rounds to check how we were doing she slips me the piece of paper before moving on.

I open it and see that the guidance counsellor wishes to see me at my earliest convenience. I look at her and she nods her head while helping another student. I pack up my things and quietly live the room as she shushes the snickers that began to wise.

I head to the library, going through the hall, down the stairs to the first floor. The librarian looks at me and I show her my note to which she nods and allows me entry. I turn the corner with the guidance counsellor was and knocks.

"You wanted to see me?" I asked

Mrs. Dawson looks up and motions for me to come in. I shut the door and sit down in the chair.

"Yes, yes, thank you for coming," She says with a smile.

"Didn't have much of a choice," I remind her, which she frowns at. "What do you wish to talk about?" I play it off like I don't know why I was called. Why make it easy for her?

"Rilla," she gives me an empathetic look. "I've heard some rumours in the halls this morning."

"Isn't that a common thing?" I say still not admitting anything to her.

"Do your parents know?" She asks me. She can't go ask my mother I realize, it would be too awkward.

"Know what?" I ask her back. I'm being insolent and I'm far from caring. She gives me a look as she looks me over. Making her self-consciously wrap my arms around my midriff. "My fathers a doctor, of course, they know."

She let out a sigh of relief. "Are you planning on keeping the child?"

"That's the plan," I said looking up at the ceiling. "I don't see how it's any of your business though,"

"When it comes to your education how you will finish the school years it does," Mrs. Dawson tells gently. "I'm not here to judge you, just guide you so you can graduate on time. When are you due?"

"May 6th," I tell her quietly.

"So we should either see if you can take exams early or do some extra credit. That way you can take the last few weeks of school off," She said clicking on her keyboard.

"Mom said something about homeschool possibly if it was easier," I tell her and she looks up.

"I'm sure your mother is looking down every avenue," she agreed. "Does the father plan of taking any time from school? Does he go here?"

"No, he doesn't, and I don't know," I said quietly, making her look over me over more.

"You broke up?"

"There was never an us, to begin with, it was just a stupid one-night thing," I say to explain, she nods her head again.

"Well, his loss then," she said which surprised me. Most people ask more questions, try to get more answers. Maybe she's seen enough teen pregnancies to know when to stop asking, maybe she realizes it wasn't her concern.

"I'll look over your schedule and talk to your teachers. We can put together a few plans for you, if you need to pull out of school earlier we should have a plan put in place for such events," she tells me. "I'll do everything I can to help you graduate on time and college when it comes down to it."

I nod my head. Everyone is kind and helpful it rather surprises me.

"If you ever need to talk, vent my door is always open to you," she tells me.

"I'll try to remember that," I tell her. "Can I go now?" I ask her.

"Of course," Mrs. Dawson said. I hold my books and stand up and she hands me a note to explain I was speaking to her which caused me to be late.

I go to the washroom before I head back upstairs to the English wing. I hand the note to my teacher who nods his head and I slip into my seat next to Olivia.

"What happened?" She asked as she spotted me.

"Guidance counsellor wanted to have a chat about how I'm going to finish school," I explain quietly. "Did I miss anything?"

"Nah, just people making fun of Shakespeare," Olivia tells me with a smile. I nod my head and open my English binder and look up at the board. It was a class of reading out loud and discussions about Macbeth. By the time the bell rang my stomach was growling.

"Come on, I brought some brownies I made last night," Olivia tells me as she hears it. I obediently follow her to my locker to get my lunch before heading towards the cafeteria. I grab my lunch from my bag and my bullet journal. We walk down to the cafeteria after stopping at her locker to grab her lunch bag and find a table to hide at. People whispered around us, some shouted names at me."

"So you're what eighteen weeks now?" Olivia says as she brings up something on her phone.

"Really we're at school?" I try to get her to close the app. "I don't even follow that sort of thing." I object.

"But it's fun!" Olivia grinned. "The baby is the size of an artichoke, its ears are almost formed and has fingertips."

"Really," I say grabbing her phone.

"No! I thought you didn't care about this sort of thing," Olivia teases me.

"I don't," I huff as I open my container of salad, my mom had snuck a few mini bocconcini cheese than I had originally put. I sigh and push them aside with my fork, squeezing my lemon wedge over my salad mixed it lightly.

"I still can't get over the whole lack of salad dressing," Olivia said shaking her head.

"I just don't like dressing," I shrug taking a bite of my salad. She had a sandwich and container with two brownies in it along with some grapes, cheese and crackers.

"You do have more lunch don't you?" She asked me in a motherly tone.

I pull another divided-out container full of strawberries on one side and cottage cheese on the other. "Happy?"

"I'm just looking out for the godchild," Olivia told me with a smile.

"I'm presbyterian, we don't have baptisms, christenings or godchildren," I tell her.

"Yet I am catholic and I am anointing myself honorary godmother of your child." Olivia grinned. "That way I can be Auntie Olivia."

"Because they won't have four Aunties already, along with their four Uncles?" I say as I include Faith and Matt into the count.

"You can never have too many," Olivia smiled and shrugged at me. "I think everyone is almost bored of the new already," she said looking around.

"I doubt it," I said sighing. I spy my ex-boyfriend at another table, laughing with his friends.

"The kid is not mine!" He shouts from the tabletop. A nearby teacher pulling him down, scolding him for acting in such a way.

"Just ignore him," Olivia told me. "You're much better off without him being the father anyway. Whatever did you see in him?"

"He was the captain of the hockey team?" I say with a shrug. "Can't say much about the sex, not much to compare it to," I admit. "The only other person I've been with I don't necessarily remember much of."

"Yet you have forever gift," Olivia said as she bit into her sandwich.

"So it seems," I said with a sigh. My phone buzzes once more, I glance at it seeing it was Joy. I click it off. I hadn't spoken to her since early November. The night I left her place in tears, feeling like she betrayed me. At this point I know I'm being childish holding my grudge but I still hold it anyway.

"You ever going to answer her?" Olivia asks me. She knows all about Joy and why I had been avoiding my older sister. Taking the bus home whenever I could or waiting for Dad to pick me up for a walk. I was one avoided call away from her showing up at work at this point I gathered.

"Maybe at Christmas?" I say with a sigh. "I know I'm being childish but what she said asked, said really hurt," I say as I push my eat eaten lunch away.

"My aunt according to my mom was given two choices when she had her daughter when just graduated high school," Olivia tells me. "If she wanted to keep it, she was on her own. If she wanted support she had to give it up and they told her older brother and wife would take the child. She hated the thought of watching someone raise her baby with her in the background, the sidelines. Still, they pressured her into it. It only made things worse for her."

"What happened to her?" I ask curiously.

"She went away to college and did some stupid things," Olivia says quietly. "It didn't end well for her."

I nod my head somehow knowing what Olivia had meant.

"What about the baby?" I ask.

"She grew up loved, but never truly understanding the situation. Then she got married ad had a little girl named Olivia," Olivia said with a small half-smile. "My mom wants you to know that she thinks you're brave, and if you want another perspective that doesn't always advocate for the other A word. She'd be willing to talk to you about her own experience."

I nod my head. "I'll think about it," I tell her honestly as we both stand up and grab our trays to bring over to the garbage bins.

We were just about done at my locker when I was approached.

"So who is the father?" Fred cornered me later in the hall.

"I don't see how it's any of your business," I shut my locker and walk around him.

"He's not around, is he? Runaway from your crazy tendencies, or maybe it was the fact that you couldn't stop thinking about dance enough to enjoy yourself?" Fred said out loud.

"Or you were all about yourself and didn't care enough about the other person?" I snap at him.

I can hear a few students around him snicker at my insult.

"Actually better yet, at least I didn't have to worry about him trying to fuck me while I was asleep even if I was drunk?" I tell him, reminding him about the time I woke up to his down my pants.

I see the girl he was dating at the moment look at him in shock, or disgust I wasn't entirely sure. The rest of the crowd all making burn and sizzle comments. I escape Olivia, catching up to me.

"Rilla please don't—," she said out of breath. "That didn't happen?"

I shrug. "I dumped him afterwards. I don't really wish to talk about it right now." I tell her. "I'll see you after class?"

"Sure," I see her sigh and nod her head as she spilt into our separate directions.

I was hungry, I could eat anything given to me at this point. I was that hungry and I had never experienced such a feeling until now. I run down the stairs, not caring about ankle injuries or even the baby. It didn't matter I had picked at my dinner as I usually did. I wanted food and I was going to eat it.

I stop short of the kitchen when I hear my mother's voice.

"Leslie! What a surprise!" She exclaims as she picks up her ringing phone. "How's Owen? The Kids?" She asked talking quickly. "Oh wait let me put you on speaker, I'm just cleaning up the kitchen."

"We're all good, Owen is in his office, and Persis is should be home a few days from Japan," Leslie's voice filters into the room. "How is Walter?"

"Oh he's good, he'll drive from Kingsport tomorrow sometime," my mother replies. "How's Ken doing?'

"Actually Ken is the reason I'm calling," Leslie says with a strange catch to her voice. "I was filling him in on all the gossip that afternoon and I mentioned in passing about Rilla. Her predicament and refusing to say who the father is. Well, Ken suddenly went quiet and he asked how many months she was. When I said around eighteen weeks, so about four and a half? He just nodded and walked out of the room saying he had to go check something.

"Well, that is strange," Mom hummed clearly not seeing why Leslie was calling.

"I found him packing a bag a half-hour later saying he had to go," Leslie said to my mom in a queer voice. "I asked him where he had to go, and he looked at me and said, 'I have to talk to Rilla'. Anne…I don't know what to say or think. I mean this is impossible, he's twenty-two. Rilla only just turned sixteen. It's impossible, right? He can't be the father to Rilla's baby?" Leslie spoke sounding hopeless and terrified.

I watch my mother turn as she heard the floor squeak under my feet. I had told them the truth, I told them I tried to tell him, but I haven't heard from him. It was true, Ken read and ignored my message that day.

"I will look out for Ken, Leslie. I need to go have a conversation with my daughter." My mother says looking at the phone. Hanging up after Leslie said a quick goodbye.

"Mom?" I say quietly. Her gaze dropping to the small swell of my stomach.

"Rilla—?" She began. "Please, tell me. Tell me that Leslie Ford is just being paranoid."

I look down at my miss-matched sock, unable to look her in the eyes.

"How is this even possible?" She asked me suddenly rubbing her temples.

"We met at a party, I suppose we were too drunk to care who we were," I found myself explaining. "It was a mistake, he hated himself for it. He drove me home and we spoke briefly about it."

"You were that drunk you didn't recognize the boy that you idolized when you was ten?" My mother gave me a look. "How could he not recognize you Rilla, he's known you all his life!"

"Oh! Don't even go there! Don't go insinuating that he knew it was me. He hadn't seen me for three years, and the purple hair didn't probably help much" I object to her questioning. "We thought we had been safe—,"

"Not safe enough," Mum says sarcastically for what seems like the millionth time. "All you needed to do was take Plan B, Rilla. My god, you have sex in a tent! Where did that condom even materialize from? His wallet?"

"I don't know! He had a duffle bag with him! He could have had a box of them! I don't even remember much of the night, I vaguely remember the sex!." I exclaimed. "He said it was fine and either way but I'm an idiot for thinking I could at least trust him! Though I would think given the circumstances that if he was worried. He would have at least offered to go to take me to the drugstore himself!"

Mom just stood there, I could tell she didn't want to admit that sounded like something that Ken Ford would have done. Though in her mind you can never be too safe.

"God, I don't even know what your father is going to say about this. I didn't think this could get any worse, but apparently, you're going for a full trifecta of stupid decisions."

My pregnancy is still a touchy subject, neither parent was happy with my current situation. Dad was sympathetic as he could be but still, we rarely spoke about the baby since he met me from the bus stop. Of course, there was the never-ending reminder to take my vitamins, to eat an additional snack. He would pick me up from work at the studio when he could, even those car rides were rather silent. The radio playing his music from the late '70s and 80's, I knew when he was had something on his mind by what he listened to. I knew that he played Bowie for me often as it was the one few I could appreciate with him.

"At the very least, at least we tried to be safe!" I snap at her. It was a low blow to remind her that Joy only came into existence because mom and dad thought they were invincible.

"Marilla Nadine Blythe," Mom's voice drops down low. "Go to your room and stay there until your father comes home.

"I'm hungry," I object.

"Then grab a banana and get upstairs before I say things I regret," Mom warns me.

I heed her warning mostly since I had a headache and didn't want it to get worse. Though I grab a container of yogurt, a banana, a mix of muesli and a carton of almond milk. She looks at me in disbelief, then it was like she understands. This hunger was happening against my own will as I grab a handful of string cheese and stalk upstairs.

I eat my feast slowly before crawling into bed. Imagining what my father would say when he got home in the morning. It would an awkward breakfast. The reality is I didn't even make it downstairs before he was in my doorway as I still laid in bed.

"Kenneth Ford?" Dad utters in disbelief. "This has to be a joke? This can't be real." Mom is coming up behind him trying to what appears to calm him down, Shirley trailing behind them not totally understanding what was going on.

"Pretty sure it's real," I say underneath my breath. Mom glares at me but I am past the point of caring.

"Kenneth Ford?" Dad repeats looking at me, it's all clicking in his mind. Why Ken was there that morning, the more he thought about it the redder in the face he got.

"According to Leslie he left around noon yesterday and sent a message that he stopped in Quebec City for the night." Mom told him before turning towards me. "Have you heard from him?"

I shake my head too confused over what was happening. If he ignored my message back then why was he racing here?

"I wasn't lying when I said I tried to tell him. I don't know what he's doing or why he's coming he didn't care before," I breakdown. Mom softens a little when she sees me cry.

"We'll figure this out," She tries to reassure me.

"I need to do this," I say quietly shaking my head. "I need to know why now."

"It's your right to," She says with a sigh before dragging dad away. Shirley lingers longer.

"Ken Ford?" he says. "At least I understand the secrecy behind it all now. Though if it was just an accident, why hide it?" he asked me.

"You wanted me to tell them I slept with Walters best friend? Someone six years older, when they know his parents? I didn't want him to find out like this, he wasn't supposed to find out like this." I sob hitting the bed with my hand rather hysterically. "I didn't want them to think bad of him, I went to a party I shouldn't have, it just happened."

"You said he ignored you?" Shirley said giving me a moment to compose myself and I just nodded my head.

"Don't hurt him, it's not like I said, hey I'm pregnant, I just asked if we could talk," I told Shirley and he shrugged as if he was saying no promises. "I need to get ready for school," I say motioning to my bed head and pyjama's I was still wearing. Dad was muttering and pacing around the house when I come downstairs. He doesn't want to believe it, Kenneth Ford he would mumble. The boy who played in hour back yard. The boy who was Walters best friend. How were they going to break it to Walter!

My eyes were still puffy from all my crying as I walked out of the house in my school uniform. It only took one look before Olivia pulled me into a hug as her mother looked back at us in the mirror frowning.

"Is everything all right?" She asked me sympathetically.

"Just your average every morning," I tell her with a shaky smile, but Olivia gives me a look of wanting more information. "Daddy has entered the picture or will be. I'm sure it will be a surprise of a lifetime that came second hand from his mother." I sighed. "This is exactly what I didn't want to happen, I didn't want him to hear it second hand, and still it happened."

I could see Mrs. Bertrand's eyebrows raise as she drove but she said nothing. It was no secret I had yet to come out and say who the father of my child was.

"Well, will you just tell me who it is? I know I don't know him but give me a name at least?" She asked me.

"His name is Ken and he's a family friend, Walters friend," I say quietly and offer no other information. She looks at me as she trying to place Walter in my family, and just how old he was.

"Isn't Walter is like what 22?" She whispered.

"Yeah," I nod my head, "Not, the brightest moment of my life, obviously." Suddenly my phone pings and I feel my heart racing at messenger is telling me I have a new message from Kenneth Ford on Instagram of all places.

'God I hope you see this…So yeah, (I can see him run his hand through his hair in my mind after typing that.) I'm not exactly sure what to say right now but I'm about to drive into New Brunswick. I have a feeling that we need to talk?

I swallow my saliva. As my hands shake, I wanted to talk months ago and was ignored. I didn't know what to say, so I left it on read. It was spiteful, but it hurt four months ago that day.

Olivia looked at me and I mustered up a fake smile.

"Maybe the message got intercepted?" She offered to try to show me another perspective. "We don't know what happened, but at least be the bigger person at this moment?"

I sigh and pick up my phone once more as it buzzes

Please just say something?

I take a deep breath and hit the message bar and all I write back is

Yes.

As I approach Ken coming into this story I will be basing much of his reaction on my boyfriend who at twenty-two found out his girlfriend of two months was pregnant. Much of the story is based on similar experiences. From my stepbrother and girlfriend having a baby at 16. To my career working in a ballet company and seeing the dancers and students do amazing things. While I don't dance, I see their lifestyle and how they live and breathe dance.

Thank you all for the lovely reviews...and I am sorry where I left this chapter off...but I had to!